


Drawing Lives

by nhasablog



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Artist Steve Rogers, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Slash, Tickling, drawing tony stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 14:16:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14771243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nhasablog/pseuds/nhasablog
Summary: “I’ve always been real, Steve.”“I reckon it’s just hard for my human brain to process it.”(Or, Steve draws Tony and he comes to life.)





	Drawing Lives

**Author's Note:**

> This might be the strangest idea I’ve ever had, but I ended up loving the result, so I hope you will too!
> 
> Edit: Sorry if this was posted like four times! AO3 was being very slow and kept crashing but not telling me the fic had actually managed to get published, and then it took me forever to delete the other ones and it was overall quite frustrating hah

As a boy, Steve Rogers took up a hobby and discovered he had a gift. By the time he realized this gift might not be common and therefore potentially dangerous, the hobby had turned into a habit he couldn’t shake, and he was still doing it to this day, in secret, about 20 years later.

It was a normal Tuesday evening. A long day working the closing shift at the bookstore he’d been working at for the past two years since graduating college had resulted in a familiar exhaustion. He actually liked his job, but it was temporary, or so he’d been saying for about a year and a half when people brought it up. He’d much rather work with art, but the conversations about various books was stimulating enough for the time being.

He’d hated how beat he’d been at first. You’d think being in college would prepare you for a proper full time job, but it didn’t, and Steve had come home home with barely any energy to cook dinner. The endless ramen had had to stay in his life for a little longer, until Sam and Bucky, his roommates, put their individual foot down.

Neither of them were home now, which suited him fine. He usually didn’t mind working every other weekend purely for the alone time he would get afterward. Sam and Bucky were still way more interested in the city’s nightlife than the calm apartment.

He grabbed his notebook and favorite pen and sat down at the kitchen table, a bowl of reheated ravioli in front of him (he couldn’t quit pasta). He made sure to take a few bites before giving in and opening his secret, guilty pleasure, and hopefully future career.

Steve examined the last drawing he’d done. It was more of a sketch, really. An unfinished illustration of his old neighborhood in Brooklyn. Nat had told him to keep drawing the same concept, but to make it different each time for practice. He’d found that drawing that familiar street was hard, because he always remembered it the same way, with its corner shops and kids and laughter. So he’d tried to draw it in different seasons, on different nights. Bucky had told him he should go back, but Steve hadn’t returned ever since his ma had died a few years ago. He was scared it’d break the magic.

He shook his head. He loved Brooklyn, but that wasn’t where he wanted to be tonight.

He opened a new fresh page, the blankness of it both thrilling and overwhelming. He could create anything on there, but he knew exactly who he would bring to life.

Quite literally.

He started lining the familiar shoulders, curving upward to start on the neck. He’d drawn even more variations of this than he’d done of his old home, and it was second nature at this point. His friends couldn’t understand why he kept drawing the same man, over and over, and Steve both couldn’t and didn’t want to explain it to them.

He paused at the chin. He could’ve just made a bigger sketch of the head and thus bring out just what it was that enthralled him so much about the face, but he’d found that drawing the whole body was better, because he could read the body language that way.

He continued. The sketch was done not soon after that.

He sat back and replaced his pen with his fork, waiting. Waiting, waiting, waiting-

“You could at least change my outfit.”

Steve grinned. “Hello to you too.”

The neutral expression Steve had drawn shifted into a smile. “Hi. Sorry, you never draw proper manners.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Tony.”

Tony huffed. Steve had seen this so many times. The way the lines moved on their own, creating a living almost breathing thing out of the simple sketch Steve had made. Yet he still watched it with wonder.

“If I request a way to be drawn tomorrow, will you do it?”

“Maybe if I have the apartment to myself.”

“You really need to get a desk, Steve.”

He really really did. Usually Sam and Bucky left him alone when he was working in the kitchen or the living room, but Steve was buying himself a small desk as soon as he could. It didn’t even have to be a fancy one! Just good enough to draw on in the privacy of his bedroom.

Tony crossed his arms. “Remember that time one of them suddenly came home and you just ripped me up?”

“You told me it didn’t hurt!”

“Oh, it didn’t. I think as soon as you start damaging the paper I stop existing.”

Steve had once asked Tony what happened to him once the drawing returned to being a drawing, but Tony couldn’t tell him. “It’s like I just disappear,” he’d said. “And I don’t realize I’ve been away until you draw me again.”

Yeah okay maybe some backstory would be good here. Steve didn’t understand this much himself actually. All he knew was that one of his drawings had come to life when he was four, and since then it kept happening. But it was always the same character. Despite how differently Steve might’ve drawn him, or how much it changed with the years Steve was certain it had been Tony from the beginning. Tony said he could vaguely remember being younger and very different, so Steve had reason to believe his theory was correct. Tony couldn’t remember anything else, after all. His entire world was Steve and his pen.

“How was your day?” Tony always wanted to know about Steve’s life. Steve didn’t know how he could understand it all if he was just a drawing on a paper. Maybe it had something to do with him literally coming from Steve’s mind.

“Tiring,” he replied, his smile flickering. “We’re nearing the holiday season and people go insane, even in bookstores.”

“Ouch.”

“Like, maybe you should’ve come in to make sure a certain book was in and available a little earlier? It usually takes a book about a week to get in, if we’re able to actually order it. God, I hate it when people shop last minute because they will no doubt blame us for everything going wrong.”

Tony finally uncrossed his arms. “Can you draw me in the store?”

“Why, so you can beat them up?”

“So that I can have a very stern talk with them.”

Steve barked out a laugh. “This is why I’ve been drawing you for 20 years. You somehow always know what to say.”

“Do you think I’d still be me if you drew me differently?”

“I think so? I mean, I don’t always draw you the same.”

“Yes, but I mean  _very_ differently.”

“I have no idea how this works.”

“Neither do I.”

“It’s weird, isn’t it?”

“Good weird?”

Steve’s lips twitched upward, and he pulled the chair closer to the table so that he could lean down a bit. “Definitely good weird.”

His phone vibrated, bringing him briefly back to the real world.

“It’s Sam,” he said distractedly. “I think he’ll be back early tonight- Tony?”

Tony was fading. Well, not fading exactly, but the lines were forced back into their original position, rendering the drawing motionless and lifeless, as if it had been like that all along. Steve swore loudly and fumbled for his pen. He wasn’t done talking to him dammit.

It had taken Steve years to realize that he didn’t have to watch Tony fade away if he’d stopped interacting with him for too long. This was why he’d preferred to do this when he’d been home alone, for one single distraction made the magic disappear, and for a very long time Steve had thought he could only create Tony once a day.

He now knew that wasn’t true, and all he had to do to wake the magic (or whatever it was) was to keep working on the drawing. So that was what he did.

He gave Tony shoes, a beanie for him to match the season, and a jacket that was probably too thin to wear during winter in New York. But it was working. He had only started shading the area between the jacket and the shirt when Tony started squirming and promptly messed it up. It was rare for him to be awake when Steve was still working on him.

“It tickles,” he said, and Steve paused in shock.

“You can  _feel_ that?”

“Apparently.”

“That’s-  _how_?”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “You’re talking to a drawing you made. I thought we were over questioning this.”

“It’s just-” He shook his head. “I guess realizing that you can feel makes you feel more-”

“Real?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve always been real, Steve.”

“I reckon it’s just hard for my human brain to process it.” He made a move to place his pen on the wooden table, but then the artist inside him took over. “Sorry but I have to finish the shading. Otherwise it’s gonna really annoy me.” He brought the pen closer to Tony. “May I?”

Tony shrugged. “Be my guest. But be  _careful_.”

It didn’t matter how careful Steve was, because apparently Tony - who suddenly could feel things and dear lord Steve would never be over it - was ticklish pretty much everywhere. Steve had to admit it was quite amusing.

“ _Stop_ it,” Tony begged as Steve insisted on filling in the lines along his neck. It was a little alarming to have his subject wiggle around as he tried to draw him, but so far Steve had managed to avoid giving him three arms.

“I need to fix you,” Steve insisted.

“There’s nothing wrong with me- stop!” Tony jumped to the side. He’d told Steve once that he rarely moved his entire body because it took a lot of energy, whatever that meant for a drawing. “Steve, please!”

“Are you sure you don’t want some new shoes?”

“I’m positive, now please let me be.”

Steve stopped because he could tell his friend was exhausted. He knew they didn’t have much time left, so he wanted to end it on a calmer note.

“Didn’t know you were ticklish.”

Tony snorted. “Neither did I, until you tickled me.”

“I feel like I have too much power now. I’m afraid I’ll take advantage of it.”

“Nah, I know you. You’ll only take advantage of it occasionally.”

Steve’s phone buzzed again; Sam had forgotten his keys and needed Steve to go open up the door for him downstairs.

Steve sighed and turned to Tony who was already fading. “See you tomorrow.”

Tony just managed to smile before his mouth was forced to the neutral expression Steve had drawn about half an hour ago.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my [tumblr](http://nhasablog.tumblr.com).


End file.
